


Heatstroke

by randompandemic



Series: Cullen & Róisín [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, and sillyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompandemic/pseuds/randompandemic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a hot day in the Western Approach, and the Commander of the Inquisition is not used to this kind of heat. Good thing he has an Inquisitor to watch out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heatstroke

**Author's Note:**

> There was a gif of Cullen wrapped up in his fur making [distressed lion noises] on tumblr a while back and this happened as a result of me seeing that gif. Poor, silly Commander.

**Heatstroke**

It was by far the hottest day they had seen since they set up the camp here. Róisín had retreated into her tent, because by opening both flaps in the back and front, she could create the most pleasant draft through the interior, cooling it down just enough to be bearable, even though the draft itself was of hot air and it got sand over literally everything she had here. Still, she sat at her small desk in little more than underwear and whenever she was not writing something, she used a bunch of papers to fan air at her face. She had her short hair pushed back from her face with a headband and had kicked off her boots a long time ago. 

She heard shouting outside, clanking swords and grunting noises and a distinct voice bellowing orders. Cullen was training recruits. In that heat. Maker’s breath, the Commander was relentless! She put down her papers and got up, her sweaty naked thighs uncomfortably sticking to the leather of her chair. She pulled a face as she inspected the squished in marks on her buttocks, then headed out into the bright sunlight of the Western Approach to see what was happening. A group of maybe twenty new recruits were running through practice stances with each other, all dressed in only linen trousers and shirts, some had discarded of these shirts already and they still seemed sweaty and exhausted. They had taken up formation in the only shade they could fine – behind a high formation of rocks – and every now and then the wind coming from the Approach blew sand all over them, causing them to complain loudly.

The Commander yelled an order and drew her gaze to him. _Maker_! Was he in full armour?! Was that man insane? It was no lie, Cullen Rutherford was known for his vigilance and protocol, but this was a bit too much surely? The man was wrapped in several layers of fabric and leather and metal and his enormous fur draped over his shoulders. He had to be _boiling_ in that thing!

Ros left behind her tent and walked past the recruits – who were staring. She noticed and she did her best to ignore. Really, she could not blame them, it was not every day the Inquisitor walked by in nothing but short breaches and a flimsy shirt that left no doubt that she was definitely not wearing a breast band. 

But it was just too damn hot for any more clothes!

“Commander,” she said. Cullen turned towards her and bowed a little.

“Inquisitor,” he greeted back. She could see the sweat beading on his forehead, his hair protesting against the heat by snapping into springy curls rather than the usually smoothed, combed back style she was used to seeing. His gaze was caught on her form briefly, before his eyes shot back to her face and he nervously rubbed his gloved hand in the back of his neck. 

“Are you not hot in all that armour, Commander?” she asked.

“Very. But we have all let our guard down. If we are attacked now, we are easy prey.”

“I don’t think you are much greater a challenge to an ambush if you collapse of heatstroke, Commander. Please,” she said. He sighed. 

“I will… dress down in a bit. I have training to supervise, afterwards I will change.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise.”

“Have you been drinking enough? You need to stay hydrated, Cullen.”

“I am fine, Inquisitor, really.”

She pouted a little, but then nodded.  

“Very well. Then I’ll leave you to it,” she said and left, returning to her tent, well aware that the recruits – and the Commander – were watching her leave. By the time she was back in her tent, she heard his orders resume and the men picked up their training again. She shook her head a little and returned to work.

* * *

He was really not fine. 

She should have known it then, but she figured he was a grown man, he would know what was best for him. He did not. So when the evening finally fell she heard armour come closer, heard huffing and grunting and then the flaps of her tent were pulled open. Cullen tumbled in on a perplexed Ros, he was wheezing and grunting, his arms flailing uncoordinated and his face bright red. 

“Maker’s breath Cullen!” she called out, jumped up from her little desk to rush to his side. 

“Can’t… breathe… so hot…” he grunted, could barely articulate himself.

“I told you to get out of that armour you silly oaf!” she scolded him as she came to his side. He was still wheezing but had stopped pacing, allowing her to open the clasps of his armour and to pull the heavy fur off him. She threw it over her chair, then proceeded to peel him out of the metal that was practically on fire. How he had not died out there in that heat was a mystery to her. 

Within few minutes, she had stripped her Commander down to his breeches. A starkly visible difference in his skin colour forced her to hold back laughter: his face and neck were a bright, uncomfortable red, while his chest and shoulders and basically everything else were still his usual Fereldan pale. 

“Oh darling, you should have gotten out of that armour sooner, your brain must be boiling in your skull,” she said, half amused, half with pity and care. He was now huffing exhausted and she made him sit down on her field bed. She handed him a waterskin after breathing over it once, using magic to cool it down just enough to refresh him but not cause discomfort. “Drink, I’ll get some ointments for your face and a potion for your heatstroke. I’ll be back in two seconds!”

She rushed out, ran across the camp to the healer’s tent and barged in, quickly gathering the things she needed. Having prepared for the heat, they luckily were well stocked with treatment for these ailments, so she had no worries taking some for her Commander. 

With the acquired potions, she rushed back to her tent, unwilling tp leave Cullen alone for too long in his condition. She found him, lying down on his back, still groaning and covering his eyes with a hand, his legs dangling down either side of her bed. 

“Help?” he asked in a whimper.

“Help is here, my sweet, don’t worry.”

She sat down by his side and put his hand out of the way so she could apply the ointment to his skin, while he slowly downed his potion, sip after sip, groaning at the bitter taste. “That was so silly of you. You need to look out for your health. People die of heat stroke. What would you do without me?”

He grunted something unintelligible and wrapped an arm around her waist, lazily pulled her close into an embrace. She smiled, leaned closer, her hand brushed through his curly hair and she leaned to kiss the only two places without ointment – his hair and his lips. His kiss tasted of bitter potions. “I want you to stay here tonight, so I can keep an eye on you, yes?”

“Yes…” he mumbled. She could feel him start to shiver a little – not an uncommon reaction. Surely he was developing a fever now, so she pulled a light blanket around him, shifted over to his other side and bedded his head on her knees. 

“Try to rest love. And drink as much as you can,” she ordered, stroking his hair and repeatedly holding more water to his lips. He drank as ordered and after a while he began to drift to sleep. And she watched over him. Whenever he stirred, she would make him drink water, and she cooled his face with magic running through her fingertips, stroking his cheeks and forehead. All with a smile. Her sweet, silly Commander, always thinking of his duties first, and his wellbeing second. Good thing he had her. Good thing she had no intention of ever leaving him to his own devices again.


End file.
